Crimson
by purseplayer
Summary: Blaine has spent decades watching over the Hummel women at the command of his sire, but when for the very first time a boy is born to the line - a boy whom Blaine immediately recognizes as his mate - his life becomes a struggle between law and desire. AU, Vampire!Blaine.
1. Part One

**A/N: **I'm so excited to finally be posting this story. It is complete and beta-d, and I plan to post at least every other day until it's finished. **WARNINGS** for dubcon, underage sex, innoncence!kink, bloodplay (only what you'd expect from a vampire story), character death (but not really - someone gets turned), excessive amounts of smut.

A huge thank you to my beta, PurplePen, on this one - she went above and beyond and really made a difference in flushing this story out.

I can't wait to hear what you guys thing, so please drop a line and let me know!

* * *

**Part One**

He cornered Selina in an alleyway, disheveled and with a babe at her breast. As any mother would, the young gypsy pleaded for only one thing.

Afterwards he left her, abandoned and weak to the change that wracked her body.

When she came to once more, her baby was miraculously still alive. It was all she could do to carry the child to the nearest doorstep before the bloodlust took over.

Her child grew, beautiful and strong, as Selina watched from a distance. She bore a daughter, who bore a daughter, who bore a daughter, and Selina swore to herself that a fang would never pierce their throats.

* * *

Two hundred years later came a boy, body strewn and broken across the bloody pavement, clinging to life amid many others who were long-dead, destined to be victim to a battle he never wished to fight.

Or maybe not.

"I can give you life," Selina told him, bent at his side, something sparking within her at the sight of those dimmed, golden eyes that she hadn't felt for another in decades, "life that stretches on and on. But you must swear yourself into my service."

The boy blinked, her beautiful face hazy in his vision, only sharp white fangs in focus. "Do you…" he broke off in a cough, red staining his lips that made Selina's breath catch, "do you still feel?"

"Only what is strongest," she answered honestly.

"I…" a raspy breath, and his eyes fell closed.

Selina descended.

After that, Blaine felt only pain and then nothing for many, many years.

* * *

The same house, the same grounds, the same family. They never seemed to question why Blaine didn't age, why they died and he remained.

If he had the capacity for it, Blaine might have felt lonely.

Right now, there was Rebecca and there was Elizabeth, and there was someone else on the way who wasn't supposed to be.

Blaine pretended to ignore the shouting about shame and dishonor and the family name. As long as Elizabeth stayed safe—curled up and locked away in her room upstairs—it wasn't his place to interfere.

Sometimes when Blaine brought her dinner he'd find her red-eyed and staring out through the window, her slender, pale fingers splayed across her stomach, and he thought that he was almost fond of her.

As always, he summoned Selina for the birth, and she somehow managed to slink in from the shadows, unnoticed, at the precise moment of delivery.

Elizabeth smiled down at the babe in her arms, Rebecca's look for once kind as well as she took in her grandchild. "Katherine," Elizabeth declared. "Isn't she perf—" her words broke away in a cry, the doctor hurrying back to her side.

The second infant was louder and smaller, clearly eager to declare his arrival to the world.

"I'll name him Burt," Elizabeth said as she reached for him.

"No," Rebecca hissed. "Not after that scoundrel; not after one of _his kind_, I won't—"

"Kurt, then," Elizabeth acquiesced, not sparing her mother a glance as she hugged her son to her breast.

"What is this?" Selina whispered in Blaine's ear, eyeing the boy in confusion.

Blaine didn't hear her. He was staring at the infant, transfixed.

This was life, warm and strong and steadfast, pounding through his blood and into his heart for the first time in years.

* * *

After he was turned, Blaine had researched the vampire world whenever he could manage it. He learned enough to know that in some things there was a choice, and in others there was none. Blaine had to feed, had to take his fill from live, human veins if he wanted to stay strong. He didn't have to kill, and most of the time he chose not to.

He had to remain loyal to Selina and her wishes, as he had sworn his allegiance to her of his own free will in bargain for his life.

Some vampires had mates; many did not. Blaine didn't humor himself that he would be one of the few to fall into the first category. Those idealistic dreams had passed along with his humanity.

Regardless, he needed sex like he needed blood. It was easy enough to find men who were willing. A few times he was lucky enough to stumble across someone who knew of vampires' existence and thus would allow him to feed. One boy had even begged for it.

Then Kurt was born, and Blaine's world was turned upside down.

Celibacy sucked even more than Blaine did, but fortunately his body seemed to understand that Kurt was still young, and it settled into a sort of homeostasis. Still, the want was there, growing stronger with every year that passed.

And his mind—his mind was in turmoil.

It was maddening every second he remembered Selina's vow, remembered his own. He could not have Kurt, and he could not _not_ have him. It felt as though his life was on a sickening countdown, and Blaine was terrified of what might happen once he reached the end.

Selina could never know.

* * *

Sometime around Kurt's fourteenth year he finally hit puberty. Blaine began to thirst for Kurt's blood, and his lust for the boy was unleashed, spiking ever higher.

His control began to slip.

Kurt was a week away from fifteen the first time something happened.

They were in the library, Kurt seated at his desk composing a letter and chattering mindlessly about a new book his father had recently secured for their collection. Blaine stood as far away from him as possible, staring out the window.

"It's the most fascinating thing, Blaine! The author postulates the existence of all sorts of mythical creatures, and there are pictures… ouch!"

Blaine could smell it before Kurt issued the exclamation.

Blood.

And suddenly, Kurt was pressed back against the wall, his finger held up to Blaine's face as Blaine stared, transfixed by the crimson droplet bubbling up against Kurt's flesh.

"Blaine, what is…"

Deep breaths, so deep, and it was all he could do not to _taste._

"Blaine, you're scaring me."

And he was. Kurt's pulse quickened until it was racing; Blaine could see it pounding there under Kurt's delicate, white skin.

"Blaine?"

"_Kurt_. Kurt just hold still, let me…" he closed in, nosing right up against Kurt's neck, and the scent of Kurt there was intoxicating. His tongue darted out unbidden, licking a long stripe across the pale flesh, and Kurt's neck arched, keening—

A door slammed, and Blaine withdrew.

"Kurt?"

It was Katherine, slender and pretty in a blue dress her mother had sewn, and Blaine could tell from the way she was regarding them that she had seen something.

Kurt looked at her, and Blaine watched Kurt, willing the boy to meet his eyes.

He wouldn't.

"Yes, Katie, did you need something?"

"Is there…?" The girl glanced between them, confused, and Blaine felt the first sharp pang of regret.

"No, I'm fine; just got a paper cut."

Katie nodded, still suspicious. "Dinner is ready. Mama sent me to tell you."

"Of course. I'll be right there."

She left, the door clicking behind her.

"Kurt, I…"

Kurt flushed, moving around Blaine as though he weren't there, quickly gathering his things and leaving the room.

* * *

Blaine listened in on their dinner conversation that night, peering through a crack in the door. Nothing unusual was mentioned until Katherine's somewhat hesitant "mother, father… I've noticed Blaine acting a bit strangely around Kurt lately."

"Oh?" Elizabeth's fork clattered to her plate. "How so?"

"I saw them today and they were standing… oddly. Really close, and it looked like—"

"Katie!" Kurt considered both his parents in turn—Elizabeth's face was furrowed in worry and confusion, but Burt was beginning to look angry. "It isn't what she thought," he informed them, glaring daggers at his sister. "I cut myself; Blaine was only trying to help."

"Well, if that's all! What have I taught you about jumping to conclusions, Katie?" Elizabeth dismissed, returning to her food.

"Yes, mother. I just thought—" Katie looked sheepishly to Kurt, then down at her lap. "I'm sorry; it won't happen again."

"Well I don't know," Burt finally spoke. "I've never really liked the looks of this Blaine guy. Walks around like there's something unpleasant in the air. Seems pretty suspicious to me. I'd prefer it if you stayed away from him for a while, Kurt."

Blaine's breath caught. He'd never had a real problem with Burt—not once since he'd married Elizabeth and moved in with the family after Rebecca's untimely death from influenza—but the man always had paid Blaine more mind than was preferable. None of the other men that had come and gone through the years had ever cared enough to notice the hired help.

"That's nonsense, Burt," Elizabeth chimed in. "Blaine has been in this family for a long time, since before I can remember. He's always served us well and kept us safe. We can trust him."

"That's funny, cause I wouldn't put the man at a day over twenty-five."

"He's just young-looking, that's all. Honestly."

"It's fine dad, really," Kurt assured him, avoiding his father's eyes. "Blaine's always been good to me."

Blaine could just make out Kurt kicking his sister under the table.

"Yes," she agreed, gaze locked on Kurt's, "me too."

Burt huffed, and the meal continued in silence.

* * *

Several months passed without incident, and then something happened that irrevocably changed everything.

Blaine walked into Kurt's room one morning—he never knocked—to find the boy sprawled on the bed with his head thrown back against the headboard, pants off and shirt rucked up and fingers curled around his glistening pink cock. Kurt startled at the noise, throwing the blankets over himself with a whimper.

"Blaine?"

Mesmerized by the sight before him, Blaine stepped forward, walking up to the bed and inhaling deeply, moaning unbidden as Kurt's scent filled his nostrils.

"Blaine?" the boy repeated.

In one smooth motion, Blaine reached out to grasp the blankets and yank them back, mindless of the way Kurt scrambled to cover himself. "Don't stop," he ordered, leaning close and staring straight into Kurt's eyes.

"I…"

"Touch yourself for me."

Kurt swallowed audibly but wrapped a trembling hand back around himself, his eyes never leaving Blaine's own. It was Blaine who finally broke the connection, looking down, pushing the blankets further aside until he had exposed every inch of Kurt's long, pale legs.

"You're beautiful, so lovely," Blaine told him, captivated by the motion of Kurt's hand, the way his engorged head would slide away from view and reappear like a promise, an offering.

A temptation. He could do it now; he could have him. Touch and lick and fuck and bite.

Kurt's hips were arching off the bed, his cock pistoning between fingers that gleamed with pre-come. Little noises sounded almost constantly from his throat, his head thrown back: an invitation. Blaine loomed closer.

"God, Kurt, the way you _smell_. Have you done this before? Do you think about me?" Kurt whined in response, and Blaine couldn't help himself—he nuzzled into the boy's throat, pressing little kisses there, right up against Kurt's pulse, trailing up to Kurt's ear where he breathed hot, cherishing Kurt's answering shiver. "Come for me, precious."

Kurt's cries filled the room, louder than before as he spilled over his fist, his neck arching against Blaine's mouth and causing Blaine's fangs to scrap faintly along the bared flesh.

When he was finished Blaine lifted his hand away, staring into Kurt's wide, lust-blown eyes as he carefully licked every drop of come from the boy's fingers. Only then did he lift the blankets to cover Kurt again, slowly retreating, watching through a crack in the doorway as Kurt curled into a ball on his side and began to cry.

* * *

After that Kurt avoided him, but he told no one of their encounter, and Blaine caught the boy staring when he thought it went unnoticed.

Blaine watched Kurt, too. It became a nightly ritual. Some nights Kurt would jack off, but Blaine didn't interfere again—not even the night he heard his name sound in perfect pitch from the boy's lips as he reached his climax.

He was biding his time.

He was in over his head.

* * *

The way that everything changed was sudden and jarring and unexpected, throwing Blaine for a loop.

They were alone in the house—a not-so-unusual occurrence. Burt had driven Elizabeth and Katie into town for Mass, a weekly ritual Kurt had refused to attend since the death of his grandmother.

Kurt was in the library and Blaine had commandeered a chair in the parlor, exhausted from a night of hunting and fond of the view, when Kurt suddenly appeared in the doorway. He stopped there, waited, but Blaine didn't look up.

"I know what you are," the fifteen-year-old finally said.

"Oh?"

"You disappear every few nights, and the other nights you watch me. You never eat with the other servants; I've asked. You've been here too long. Dad was right; I looked up the pictures."

"My father," Blaine said dismissively, "and my grandfather before that. My family has always served yours; that's no secret."

"Hogwash," Kurt said, speaking with such conviction that Blaine finally turned to meet his eyes. "I followed you last night."

Blaine could feel his features contorting with anger. "That was foolish," he said evenly.

"But why?" Kurt challenged, coming closer.

Blaine rose to his feet, moving until they were mere inches apart. "You said you know what I am. Aren't you afraid of me?"

"No," Kurt breathed.

"But why?" Blaine echoed, mocking Kurt's previous words.

"Because," Kurt answered. Blaine could feel the way the boy's heart was racing. "Because I belong to you."

This was his moment. Blaine wanted to crush their bodies together, to take Kurt's sweet mouth, to pierce his delicate throat and drink and drink and drink until they were both dizzy with it.

Instead he ran away.


	2. Part Two

**A/N: **I'm so thrilled with the level of response I've gotten to this story - thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this installment as well :-)

* * *

**Part Two**

It was nighttime before he gathered himself enough to return to the house, and Kurt was asleep. This time, Blaine allowed himself to sit on the very edge of the bed—almost close enough to feel the boy's body heat—as he watched him sleep.

"You came back." The words fell across the darkness, and Blaine straightened, surprised.

"Of course I did."

Kurt sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist and his nightshirt stretched just too far across the broadness of his shoulders. His hair was mussed, his eyes bright and tired, the sweetness of youth all too evident in his sleep-worn face. He reached forward to trace his fingers over the contours of Blaine's face, and for long moments Blaine didn't breathe.

"I want you to explain it to me," Kurt said. "You owe me that much."

Blaine nodded, catching the boy's hand as he tried to pull it back, holding it tightly in his own. "I don't know where to start. What do you want to know?"

"How old are you?"

Blaine smiled in spite of himself—such a simple, childlike question. "Only one hundred and forty-nine. I was turned during the Revolutionary War, when I was nineteen."

Kurt inhaled sharply. "Okay," he said slowly. "Why are you here then, with us?"

"That's… complicated. The vampire who turned me, Selina… she was your great great grandmother. More greats than that, but I don't remember exactly how many. When she was turned, she had a small child. She changed me so that I could watch over your family and make sure no harm comes to them. That is, no harm that might be… _unnatural_."

"So you're stuck doing this forever?"

"I don't remember, but she said that I swore a vow to her before she agreed to turn me… that I was afraid to die."

Kurt nodded. "That's… not very nice for you."

"I've made peace with it," Blaine told him honestly. "And it brought me to you. Did you know you're the first male that's been born to the line? I don't think she wanted that to happen."

"Well, I've never been good at being quite what people want, have I?" he said with a laugh.

"You're exactly what I want."

"Oh." Kurt's mouth fell open, begging Blaine to be kissed. "About that, I'm… how does that work?"

Blaine took a moment to think it over, uncertain how much he was prepared to share. "Some vampires have mates. The second you were born, I… I can't explain it, really. You made me feel alive again."

Kurt's fingers became a vice-grip around Blaine's hand. "I've always felt that. Like… like I'm yours. But it's confusing sometimes. I wasn't sure what it meant."

"You are mine," Blaine spoke seriously, his eyes boring into Kurt's. "You're my mate."

A shiver of arousal passed between them, the thud of their hearts sounding loudly through the still air.

"Does that mean…"

"Will I turn you?"

"Yes," Kurt breathed.

"I want to, and I will… but I can't. Selina swore a vow that no fang would pierce the throats of her descendants, and when we made our agreement, I swore the same."

"How…?"

"I'll find a way around it, Kurt," Blaine said earnestly, clasping his free hand over Kurt's, engulfing his pale fingers completely. "I can't… I can't be without you now. That's got to be stronger, right?"

Kurt's face flushed in the faint moonlight. "I'm scared. Blaine… I don't know if I can do that. Be a… a vampire."

A spike of pain shot through Blaine at his hesitation. "You don't have a choice."

"Blaine…"

"You're mine, Kurt. Mine. It won't be so bad; you'll see. I'll help you through it."

"But how… Selina…?"

"I'll work it out."

"You don't have to be so harsh, you know." Kurt's tone was abruptly sharp; Blaine could sense the anxiety it hid. He knew this was a lot to take it, but lying and cajoling the boy wasn't going to help.

"It's in my nature. It will be in yours, too. But I promise I'll be as gentle with you as I can."

Kurt shuddered—probably at the implications of Blaine's words—and Blaine moved closer. His hand came up to cup Kurt's face, the pad of his thumb brushing where Kurt's blood pulsed warm and thick under his skin. "I'm not ready," Kurt said.

Blaine didn't respond.

"Blaine, can you… can you just kiss me?"

Kurt was asking him—_asking _him—like it would be some sort of sacrifice. Blaine wondered if he could _just_ anything, but he wasn't worried enough to say no. He closed the distance between them slowly, holding Kurt's gaze. Blaine held himself back at first… just a soft brush of lips, that was what Kurt _deserved_. But Kurt's mouth was sweeter than his wildest fantasies had conjured, and before he could stop it Blaine was licking inside, Kurt's body flush against his as he cried out prettily, the sound reminiscent of the music Blaine used to love before passion burned away with his soul.

Now Kurt was passion.

Losing control, Blaine ripped their lips apart.

"Touch yourself for me, beautiful."

"Blaine," Kurt breathed, a fresh blush heating his cheeks.

"Let me see you," Blaine urged again.

Already, Kurt's hands were sweeping across his own body.

* * *

Blaine refused to touch him after that day save for a chaste brush of their lips, too afraid of taking things too far. He still snuck into Kurt's room most nights, sometimes just to watch, other times to wake the boy and tell him to disrobe and _watch_…

Blaine would whisper instructions into Kurt's ear, tell him what to do and how to do it, sometimes tell him the things that _Blaine _would like to do if he could. Kurt followed every direction to the letter, his cheeks colored pink more often than not. Soon he learned to wait for Blaine's command before his back arched sharply, and he would finally climax, a cry of Blaine's name on his lips.

Blaine pushed him a little farther every time until one night, bent awkwardly with two oiled fingers working furiously in and out of his ass, Kurt began to beg for Blaine's touch.

"You can't do that, my sweet," Blaine told him once he'd come down from his high. "It's too risky. I won't be able to resist you."

Face hidden away in the shadows, Kurt smiled.

The next time he did it, Blaine put an end to their activities completely, his fury filling the room.

"But I'm yours," Kurt protested, still on his knees with his nightshirt rucked up to his chest and the tantalizing curve of his cheeks on display. "I don't understand why you won't take me."

Blaine rounded on him then, taking Kurt's arm and toppling him onto his back and pressing him into the bed, scarcely room for a breath between them. Kurt moaned and tried to rut, his still-swollen cock trapped cruelly between their bodies.

"You don't understand that I'm a monster," Blaine told him, voice purposely harsh. "You don't understand how easily I could…"

"But I'm your mate," Kurt argued boldly. "You won't hurt me, Blaine; I know you won't."

Blaine bore his weight down further. "Those books your father just got, is there one on vampires?"

Reluctantly Kurt nodded, a hint of fear finally beginning to register on his face.

"Have you looked at it?"

"No."

"Go," Blaine said, moving off of him abruptly. "Go get it, right now. Bring it to me."

"But…"

"Go!" Blaine hissed, his tone and expression brooking no argument.

Not looking at him, Kurt stood and righted his clothing, slid into his slippers and snatched the candle off the nightstand. Then he was gone.

Blaine sat on the bed while he waited, his face buried in his hands, fingers twisting into and tugging on his curls.

A few minutes later Kurt returned, wordlessly handing him the book. Blaine paged through it frantically, finally finding a suitable image. "Here!" He thrust the book into Kurt's hands, pointing out an illustration.

It was a woman, or at least it was her body. She lay pale and broken in a pool of her own blood, puncture wounds littering her skin and set apart by the ugly black bruises that had formed around them.

"This is what I am," Blaine told Kurt, his patience wearing thin. "This is what I _do_!"

"But not to me," Kurt whispered, staring transfixed at the picture.

"Do you have any idea how crazy you make me? How much I thirst for you? God, Kurt, other blood is appalling to me now; all I crave is you! I want to pin you and fuck you and carve into your throat and drink until there's nothing left…"

"And that's what you want me to become? You want to reduce _me_ to this too?" There were tears in Kurt's eyes, but he was still clutching the book to himself pathetically, as though it might keep him safe.

"If I can control myself long enough," Blaine conceded coldly.

"I thought… I thought…" Kurt's voice was broken, choked as he tried to force the words out. "I thought you loved me," he finished weakly.

Blaine closed his eyes, spoke in slow, measured words, "I feel so much for you, Kurt, you have no idea. But I told you; I'm a monster…"

"Get out," Kurt said, his face like ice.

"Kurt…"

"Get out or do it now!" Kurt muttered savagely, his voice rising in pitch.

"You'll wake the house, Kurt, please…"

"GET OUT!" Kurt raged, and Blaine finally fled, hearing the book hit off of the doorframe and fall to the floor behind him.

* * *

The problem was that Blaine couldn't leave, not with his oath to Selina still hanging over his head. Instead he approached Elizabeth the next morning and asked politely for a leave of absence (the household appeared as oblivious to the fight that had occurred in the middle of the night as they always were to anything fishy about Blaine.) Once obtained, he holed up in the barn, resigned to stay out of sight.

He didn't think it would be a walk in the park, but he wasn't prepared for _this_.

A few weeks in and every part of Blaine's body ached—his limbs, his heart, his _fangs_. He fed almost every night, most of the time leaving his prey dead in spite of his best efforts. With only the occasional, far-off glimpse of Kurt to sustain him, Blaine was driven mad with thirst.

Underneath that, and if he were honest often masked by it, Blaine was pining. He _missed_ Kurt. He missed the boy's wit, his endless chatter about the books he read, the ridiculous getups he would sew, watching him laugh with his sister. It was this that made Blaine realize something that he'd never once considered.

Kurt was his _friend_.

Blaine remembered friends from before, but that had been so long ago he'd forgotten what it felt like—simple, amiable companionship, although with Kurt of course it was something even deeper.

_Mate_. Maybe the word meant more than he thought.

It was with new understanding that Blaine finally went to him one night, head cleared only slightly by the two bodies he'd sacrificed to secure Kurt's safety.

He stared at him for several long moments, sprawled and lovely in the moonlight that streamed through the window, until Kurt startled awake, perhaps sensing his presence.

"Blaine?"

Blaine stepped closer, right up to the bed, resting a hand reassuringly against Kurt's cheek. "I'm here."

"I… I thought… I didn't… _Blaine_."

Throwing his former caution to the wind, Blaine finally drew Kurt into his arms, cradling him like the precious thing he was, inhaling deeply like the starving creature Blaine had no choice but to be.

* * *

After that they moved slowly but always together.

"Can I touch you?" Kurt asked, eyes wide as Blaine's hands traveled reverently over his body.

Blaine sucked in a breath. "I don't know," he said honestly. "We can try."

"I want to."

"Then do it," Blaine agreed, gaze locked on Kurt's.

The barest touch like flames, starting at his neck and flickering down to trace his collarbone, the sharp lines of his shoulders, a fleeting burn rubbing at his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt and lower, lower until—hesitant, sweet—his mate's hand finally, _finally_ cupped his hardness. Hissing, he arched into it.

"Does it…"

"Just, stay there," Blaine said too-harshly, barely restraining himself from flipping them and holding Kurt down and grinding and ripping fabric until there was nothing but flesh and—_God_—and _blood_. "Slowly," he cautioned once he gained a little more control.

For some reason, Blaine's mind had latched on to Kurt being _young_. Kurt was soft and boyish and pretty, would touch him gently, would fearfully submit. The idea wasn't entirely unfounded, only somewhere along the way, Kurt had begun to grow up. There was still some fear there, yes, and Kurt was still—would always be—fiercely beautiful. But the fingers tracing him intimately were long and steady, the hands large if graceful; Kurt's body was lithe and broad and narrow in just the right places, delicately defined, but defined nevertheless.

At just seventeen, Kurt felt like a _man._

His touch grew more confident, bolder. Blaine let his control slide just the right amount, wanting so badly to surrender, to allow himself to truly enjoy this. A moment later, he felt the smooth glide of Kurt's hand working under his trousers and jerked back sharply, caught unaware.

"Please, Blaine, I just want to see you…"

"_God_."

"It's only fair," Kurt persisted. "You won't hurt me; I know you won't."

A man, a boy… still so naïve.

"It's not a good idea."

"Did you feed recently?"

Blaine nodded. He was now in the habit of doing so every night before he came to Kurt or, more rarely, Kurt came to him.

"Then let me, _please_. Let me see you. I want…" he swallowed, hesitant, his Adam's apple bobbing temptingly at his throat, "I want to make you come."

Blaine sighed and looked at him, still dressed but his shirt askew, baring one shoulder, his eyes a vivid, pleading blue even in the darkness. "Okay," he said softly, hating the decision even as he made it.

"Okay?"

"If I tell you to back off… if I seem dangerous, even a little… Kurt…"

"I know; I promise."

"I can't lose you. I couldn't live with myself if…"

"Shh, I know," Kurt soothed, leaning over him and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "It will be okay, Blaine."

"Just, let me—" he paused, pushing his way past Kurt to stand. He stripped quickly, clinically, as aware of Kurt's awestruck eyes on his body as he was of the churning nerves in his stomach. Naked, he took reluctant steps back towards the bed.

"_Blaine_," Kurt said, like he couldn't help it, like a _prayer_. A pale, shaky hand reached out to brush against the trail of hair on his stomach. "You're beautiful."

He'd heard it before, so many times, but never like this. It had never _meant_ anything before, and Blaine felt shaken. How was it that this striking man-child could so easily bring a vampire to his knees?

"Thank you," he said simply.

Kurt nodded. "Lay down?"

Blaine did so, stretching out on the bed and it felt so strange; he felt so exposed. But then Kurt's hands were on him, his breath hot where it fell over Blaine's neck and ear. Kurt wasted little time, his fingers wrapping around Blaine's cock and moving, awkward and unsteady and Blaine had never felt anything so perfect in all his days on Earth.

"Is it good?" Kurt asked, suddenly appearing in Blaine's field of vision.

"It's… too good," Blaine admitted.

"Could you… look at me? Into my eyes? Please?"

Blaine groaned, fucked up hard into Kurt's fist and heeded the request. He didn't have a choice.

Fantasies of pierced flesh warred with the sensuous pleasure of Kurt's touch, but his mate's eyes kept him grounded, kept him _human_, or at least fed him the lie convincingly enough. "Wanna bite you," he cried out when the urge became unbearable—a confession or a warning, he wasn't sure—but it hardly mattered because he was already coming, streaking over Kurt's fist and making his already milky white skin glisten.

"See," Kurt said once Blaine had calmed down, "I told you we could do it."

Blaine wasn't so sure the whole thing wasn't a fluke, but he smiled at Kurt anyway, half his hunger sated, and pulled the boy down to tuck Kurt close against him, thirst be damned.

"Yeah," he whispered, "I guess we did."

* * *

The problem with giving a little was that Kurt kept wanting _more_, and most often Blaine found it impossible to say no. So far, he'd managed to set the limit at getting off simultaneously, but he was worried the boundary would only hold for so long.

And, of course, he was right.

"I don't see how it's any worse for you," Kurt argued. They were lying in bed together, both of them less clothed than Blaine considered ideal.

He fumbled for the right words, frustrated by the familiar argument.

"When we're… _sexual_… I have to focus. Compartmentalize. The thirst never goes away, and the desire makes it worse, and if I'm pleasuring you and you're pleasuring me… it would be too much, Kurt. I'd lose control."

"Then we'll stop," Kurt said simply, moving to straddle him. Blaine's hands closed around his hips on instinct.

"Kurt…"

"Shh, just let me—" before Blaine could register what was happening, Kurt's hips dipped down, his clothed erection brushing just right against Blaine's own.

"Stop it!" Blaine snapped, trying to move away, but Kurt dropped his weight stubbornly, this time grinding into him, and Blaine couldn't keep himself from moaning and arching up in response. "Kurt…"

"Feels so good Blaine," Kurt murmured, working his hips steadily now. Blaine stopped fighting, his grip tightening instead and aiding Kurt's movements.

"We need to stop," Blaine tried feebly, but Kurt's body was against him, the heat and their desire growing sharper by the moment. Kurt looked so lovely above him, pupils blown and tongue darting out to wet his lips and forehead glistening with the barest hint of sweat…

With a growl Blaine flipped them, cushioning Kurt's head with one hand while the other held them fast against one another. Kurt was keening and writhing, his every movement feeding Blaine's own arousal. Heightening it all was the rapid beat of his pulse, and from this angle Blaine could _see _it pounding in his pale, perfect throat. Groaning, he nuzzled his face against it, inhaling deeply to take in as much as he could of the amazing way his mate smelled.

"Mine," he said mindlessly.

"God, yes," Kurt agreed, hips still gyrating, head tilting back on instinct.

"I'm just gonna… just a little…" Blaine said, his body on fire as Kurt whined and offered up his throat, and just like that Blaine's fangs were sinking, slicing low on Kurt's neck, the sharp, marvelous taste of blood flooding his mouth as he swallowed greedily.

He was out of his mind, but after a few moments he heard Kurt moan and arch and come, his cries spurring Blaine's own arousal as he thrust and drank and soon found his own release.

The world began to clear and Kurt was whimpering, tiny little sounds of pleasure and pain. Blaine could sense Kurt's body weakening—a strange feeling that he had never encountered before—and it was surprisingly easy to draw back, lick over the wound at Kurt's throat until he quieted and his blood began to clot.

Neither of them moved much; Kurt collapsed against Blaine while Blaine stroked his hair, the silence filling the room more comfortable than the thought of conversation. Finally, Blaine couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry," he said, his guilt spilling out of him.

"For what?" Kurt whispered. "You warned me, didn't you? And besides, I… I liked it. I think a part of me wanted it to happen."

"I don't know what will happen now. If Selina finds out…"

"Don't think about that," Kurt urged him, sitting up and placing a warm hand against Blaine's cheek. "We'll deal with it as it comes."

Blaine nodded even though he didn't feel so reassured. "Do you need anything? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy. Maybe some tea? With honey?"

"Of course," Blaine said, pressing a kiss to his forehead and moving to get up.

He felt Kurt watching him as he winced and squirmed—Blaine had never lacked foresight enough to come in his pants before, and it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience in the aftermath. Kurt's eyes followed Blaine to the door.

"Blaine?"

Blaine turned around, raising an eyebrow in question.

Kurt looked nervous, fingers picking at threads in the quilt. "I… I love you, you know."

Blaine stared at him. The moonlight made his pale shoulders glow, lit the delicate features of his beautiful face.

"Do... do you love me?"

"Yes," Blaine's voice was hushed, the word coming unbidden. "I think I do."

His mate's smile lit Blaine's heart long after he'd left the room to make Kurt's tea.

* * *

There was little left to come between them now with fate already tempted. Blaine waited in fear of Selina's appearance for several weeks, but she never came, and slowly he began to relax… until another potential problem arose.

Burt was suspicious. For whatever reason—whatever happenstance kept Selina's descendants from any misgiving about Blaine's continual presence in their lives—it didn't work on Burt.

It definitely didn't work on Burt after he caught Blaine sneaking out of Kurt's room in the wee hours of the morning, and the argument that followed was unpleasant to say the least.

"He's bedding our son, Elizabeth! How on Earth can you not _see_, I—"

"Did he tell you that?"

"Of course not! What man is foolish enough to admit his own sin? If he is a man at all…"

"This is ridiculous," Elizabeth retorted, voice raised for the entire household to hear. "Blaine is a good man; I'm sure he had a noble purpose for being in Kurt's room at that hour. And to imply that our boy is _that kind_, Burt—"

"Of course he's _that kind_, Lizzy, and you've damned well known it as long as I have! That's not the point. The point is that that _bastard_ was _not _checking on him because he 'heard a noise,' although I'll tell you I've heard several ungodly noises coming from Kurt's room of late!"

"I'm sure you're mistaken; I've heard no such thing."

"And you, my dear, are out of line!" Burt sighed loudly—loud enough that Blaine could hear it through the wall. "I want him gone from this house, Elizabeth, and I mean it!"

"Burt, you can't…"

"Yes I damn well can!"

"It's my house!"

Silence.

"It's my house, Burt, and I say he stays."

"I'm going for a walk." The sentence was barely audible.

"Burt, please, I—"

"I'll be back in time for dinner."

A door slammed, and a woman sobbed. Blaine sank down against the wall, wondering what exactly he should do about the mess he'd made.


	3. Part Three

**A/N: **I'm so thrilled with the level of response this story is getting, thank you! I so love reading your reviews :-) This chapter is pretty much all smut. I'm not sorry.

To Lydia: No, Blaine drinking from Kurt will not turn him. You'll learn more about how someone is turned a little later! 3

* * *

**Part Three**

It was harder to sneak around now with Burt often on the lookout, but surprisingly enough it was Katie who helped them on the nights they managed it, covering for Kurt so he could slip off to Blaine's room.

"You told her?" Blaine hissed.

"Not _everything_," Kurt replied. "Just about us, and she's on our side."

"I find that hard to believe," Blaine said. He was fond of Katie, more so than he'd been of the rest. She was headstrong and whip-smart and shared a strong likeness of her mother with Kurt. They were qualities he admired, but they also made her somewhat of a wildcard.

"Katie is loyal to me," Kurt said defensively. "You don't need to worry about her."

"If you say so, dear."

Kurt stuck his tongue out mockingly. "Come kiss me," he ordered.

"Bossy tonight," Blaine noted, pulling him close.

"I'm always bossy; it's just that usually you refuse to listen."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "And what is it, exactly, that you'd like me to listen to?"

Kurt gripped Blaine's waist, one hand sliding innocently across his stomach, then daringly down, darting under his briefs to stroke his cock. Blaine growled against his lips before taking them forcefully, rutting up into the touch.

"Make love to me?" Kurt breathed into Blaine's mouth.

Blaine froze. "You know I can't. Stop pushing."

"I won't," Kurt insisted.

"You're not going to change my mind, Kurt. Not about this."

"But why? Tell me why!"

Blaine sighed and took a step back. "You know why," he said testily. "I won't be able to control myself."

"You've stopped until now," Kurt argued, "I don't know why doing _that_ would make it any different."

"Kurt, we're not having this discussion again. Keep pushing and I'll leave."

"Oh that's right," Kurt spat. "That's your solution to everything… just run away! Run away and _lie_."

"Shut up," Blaine hissed.

"And why should I? You can't control everything!"

Blaine could feel his body tensing, readying for a fight, and tried desperately to force his anger down. His temper was a familiar problem. It had been explosive even before he became a vampire, but now it was positively destructive, and it wasn't something he was willing to risk displaying around his mate.

"I'm warning you to stop talking. You're acting like a spoiled brat! This is exactly why—" he paused, cutting off his words just in time.

"Why what?" Kurt demanded.

Blaine felt trapped, uncertain what to do. He could leave the room, run away like Kurt said he would.

Or he could be honest—an over-appreciated virtue, in his opinion.

"You're barely seventeen," he whispered, finally giving in. "You're still so _innocent_, Kurt. I want to preserve that for as long as I can."

Kurt stared at him in shock for a moment, and then he did something completely unexpected.

He laughed.

"So wait, you've been sneaking into my room since I was _fifteen _to watch me masturbate, to _tell_ me to masturbate. You've had me in nearly every position imaginable. You've orgasmed and made _me _orgasm _while drinking my blood_, and now you're worried that penetration will… will what, steal my childhood away?"

"Of course not; that's silly," Blaine protested weakly and, oh _God_, was he _blushing_?

"It is silly," Kurt agreed, studying him carefully. Blaine wanted so badly to shrink away from his gaze.

Kurt blinked and broke the contact abruptly, and Blaine thought for a moment that he was off the hook. Then…

"Do you think it's odd that I still wear a boy's nightshirt to bed?" Kurt asked, fingering the hem of the long, gown-like white garment he wore.

Blaine stared at him, transfixed and confused. Kurt's eyes danced with mischief. Before Blaine could formulate a response, Kurt was tugging his shirt up and off, revealing his lean, pale body. Blaine's breath caught in his throat.

"Kurt…"

"I don't look like a boy anymore though, do I?" He backed towards the bed, sprawling onto it and dragging one hand across his chest and stomach. "Do you ever think, Blaine, that without you I'd still be untouched? I mean, there is that one boy down the road… you should see the way he _stares_."

Blaine growled low in his throat, startling himself with the noise. What was Kurt thinking, mentioning that? Kurt belonged to _him._

"Without you, I'd only have my hand," Kurt mused, fingers now teasing at his half-hard cock. "I doubt I'd be very creative, though. I probably wouldn't think up half the things you've shown me…"

Without really deciding to, Blaine had made his way over to the bed. Kurt was such a feast for the eyes, his flesh perfectly white in the moonlight, his body toned but his face so unbearably _delicate_. "So damned gorgeous, Kurt," Blaine muttered, reaching out for him but stopping short of touching.

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I masturbated?"

Dazed, Blaine merely shook his head.

"I was eleven," Kurt continued. "That day I'd gone looking for you in the servants' quarters because I wanted to tell you about something I'd read, but when I got there… you were naked, in your bed, fisting yourself. I didn't even know what that _was_ but… it made me so hard, watching you, and I was so confused. After I went to bed that night I tried it…" finally, Kurt's hand closed around his cock, now fully erect, and he stroked himself languidly, Blaine whining, his body twisting with desire as he fought the urge to _pounce_.

"I thought of you," Kurt said, voice thick and hand picking up speed. "So there, you see, not so innocent." His hand slowed, and he turned his head to meet Blaine's eyes. Blaine knew in that moment he'd been played. "Unless that's what gets to you," he added, reaching out to trail one finger down Blaine's chest. "That's it, isn't it? You enjoy the thought of my purity, and you don't want to give that up."

Blaine sucked in a breath, his hand closing around Kurt's wrist just to hold him there, to have him close.

"But the thing is, Blaine," Kurt said demurely, allowing his eyes to travel down the length of his own body before they once again locked on Blaine's own, "I'm a really good actor."

Blaine _broke._ He was on the bed and straddling Kurt, tearing at his own clothes, before he even knew it was happening.

"_God_, Kurt, I have to have you. I have to have you! Tell me I don't have to wait."

"You don't have to wait," Kurt said. He was smiling but breathless, writhing now as Blaine kissed and licked every bit of skin he could reach in his frenzy.

"Can I bite you?"

"_Please_."

Blaine hardly paused to wait for an answer, dragging his fangs against the unblemished flesh of Kurt's shoulder—a shallow cut that would bleed lightly and heal fast—and sealing his mouth over the wound. Kurt moaned and his body tensed beneath him; Blaine could feel the swell of the boy's cock pressing hot against his hip and reached a hand down to stroke him light and fast.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, shifting some of his weight away so that Kurt was able to do so. His mate's legs fell open instantly, and Blaine abandoned Kurt's shoulder to look at him. "You're glorious," he said.

"Just do something," Kurt urged in response, bucking his hips up to accentuate his eagerness.

Beginning where he'd left off, Blaine trailed his lips down Kurt's body zealously, only pausing when he reached his hips to lick and suck and kiss.

"Blaine, stop teasing _please_," Kurt pleaded. Blaine smirked against his skin, licked once more at his thigh, and then without warning bit down _hard_.

"_God_," Kurt cried, his leg jumping at the initial pain. Blaine drank deeply for only a moment, releasing him with a final brush of his lips as he carefully withdrew his fangs, Kurt's blood smearing in a crimson streak across his skin.

"Had to mark you," Blaine said, his voice near a growl.

Even if he wanted to now, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He next moved to Kurt's balls, already drawn up tight, and spent a few moments licking and sucking them into his mouth while Kurt whimpered above him, his hands twisting painfully in Blaine's hair. Kurt's cock bobbed temptingly against his stomach, dark pink and smelling _so _perfect, and Blaine couldn't resist it for long. He gave no warning before swallowing it down, his gag reflex practically nonexistent since his human life had passed, though he hadn't indulged in this since then, either—not after the first time some poor lad quite unintentionally became his meal.

Kurt keened and thrust up sharply while Blaine played his tongue around the head, savoring the taste that was so different from his mate's blood but still so purely _Kurt _that he pondered for a moment whether this could sate his hunger too. The boy was controlling himself rather poorly, his fists so tight in Blaine's curls that it was a wonder he hadn't yanked them out, his hips moving madly, Blaine's name falling endlessly from his lips.

Reluctantly Blaine pulled back, his desire overcoming him to the extent that he feared his fangs might extend without his consent. "Shh, love," he calmed Kurt's protests, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. "Do you need me to take the edge off first?"

Kurt's eyes fluttered open to meet Blaine's and he whined, a wordless reply that Blaine understood just as well. He ground his pelvis down against Kurt's once, twice—and Kurt was coming between them, biting down on Blaine's neck as his nails raked over the skin of Blaine's back.

He clung to Blaine when he was finished, distancing himself only far enough to kiss him hungrily. "Let's keep going," he urged, hands moving to cup Blaine's ass and tug his hips back down for emphasis. Blaine smiled at him, kissing both his flushed cheeks.

"Of course. To be honest, I'm not sure you have much choice in the matter." One more chaste press to Kurt's lips and he shifted down his body once more, his hands closing underneath the boy's thighs to force them further apart. Kurt was ungodly beautiful exposed for him like this, and he had no intention of _ever _giving him up.

"You're mine," he said, looking back up to meet Kurt's eyes. Kurt nodded, adoration evident in his gaze.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Blaine lowered his head to taste. Maybe it was the beast within him, but what he'd craved most over the past few years was to map every inch of Kurt's flawless porcelain flesh. And now at last, here they were.

Kurt was quieter now, the few cries he gave weaker, more pathetic, almost lazy as he squirmed against Blaine's mouth. "It's too much," he said finally.

Blaine's hands tightened on his legs. "You can take it, sweetheart. Gotta get you nice and wet." He licked firmly, finally breaching Kurt's tight muscle the barest amount, then did it again more purposefully, holding Kurt's hips in place. He paused after a moment. "This won't be enough, not if I don't want to hurt you… please tell me you thought to bring the vial of oil I gave you?"

To his relief, Kurt nodded, pointing over to Blaine's nightstand where he must have tossed it earlier.

"Can you reach it?"

Kurt huffed, wriggling and stretching while Blaine went back to work on his ass, grinning wickedly at his ploy. Finally Kurt managed to grab the little bottle, and he tossed it at Blaine's head.

"Thank you," Blaine said cordially, leaving him momentarily to kiss over the bite mark he'd left earlier. He returned and worked relentlessly with his tongue for a few more minutes, glancing up every once in a while to watch Kurt pant helplessly, his expression a cross between pleasure and agony. The image sent a sharp spike of arousal through Blaine. Reluctantly he withdrew, grabbing up the oil and spilling some into his hand as he leaned up to kiss his mate deeply, soon impaling him with two fingers.

Kurt inhaled sharply. "You might have warned me," he whined.

Blaine laughed and kissed his neck. "Not as much fun," he said, "and besides, I'm growing impatient."

"And to think just an hour ago you were fighting this tooth and nail," Kurt pointed out, his words broken up by little sighs and moans.

Blaine felt a rush of regret, but he no longer possessed the self-control to entertain the notion of stopping. Instead he thrust his fingers more deliberately, enjoying the way Kurt twitched and cried out with his movement, and nuzzled in closer to the soft heat of his skin. "You underestimate how much I long for you, as always," he said softly. "Waiting was always a game I was destined to lose."

His mate smiled at him tenderly. "I prefer to think that we've both won. I, too, have ached for this… I've dreamed for so long of your hands and your mouth on my body, and of your… your…"

"If you can't say it, maybe we shouldn't do it," Blaine teased.

Kurt flushed prettily, and Blaine couldn't help but kiss him again. "I do want this," he insisted.

Blaine sighed and touched their noses together; Kurt's eyes closed in contentment. "Let's see that you do."

Kurt had been mostly soft since coming several minutes before, but Blaine reached to stroke him with his free hand. At first, Kurt hissed at the over sensitivity, but sure enough his cock soon began to swell. "Feel good again?" Blaine asked.

Kurt sighed happily and his eyes fluttered open, his head lifting from where it had fallen back against the pillow. "Yes."

Blaine smiled, changing the movement of his fingers to twist instead of thrust until he found just what he was looking for. "How about now?"

"God, yes Blaine, please…"

"Just one more finger baby; need you good and stretched for me."

Kurt nodded, allowing his head to fall back as Blaine carefully worked a third finger inside. Kurt's ass was like a vice around Blaine's hand, tight and virginal and unyielding, and even his best efforts didn't get Blaine as far as he'd like. Finally withdrawing his hand, he moved again to kiss Kurt, cupping his clean hand around his face and pressing him firmly into the mattress. "The pain will pass, okay? I'm sorry."

Kurt smiled at him, sweet and happy. "I'll be alright."

"Get me wet?" Blaine asked.

Kurt's eyes darkened. "_Yes_."

Blaine climbed up his body, straddling his face and taking careful hold of his head with both hands. Kurt's mouth fell open with no prompting, and Blaine slowly lowered himself, his cock sinking into the slick heat inch by inch.

Kurt began to choke, and Blaine drew back, stroking his hair as he recovered.

"Relax your throat," Blaine suggested, descending again after a few moments. "Open up; you can take it."

His mate still looked somewhat uncomfortable, but seemed to manage better this time. Blaine began to thrust at a slow, steady pace. "Tighten your lips; suck a little. Use your tongue. You need to get me dripping, sweetheart."

Kurt obeyed, his technique somewhat sloppy and amateurish but it didn't really matter, the mix of innocence and desire in his eyes more than compensated. He had never done this before, never would for anybody but Blaine, because Kurt was _his_.

It was getting good, _too _good. Kurt still choked a little every so often, his throat contracting around Blaine's length and his mouth contorting, and it was all Blaine could do to give him some space each time it happened. He should probably have given it up—let the boy kneel for him and work him over at his own pace—but something in Kurt's eyes made it clear that he wanted this and even if he didn't, Blaine wasn't certain he could stop himself regardless.

The first hint of delightful contraction moved through him, and it took all Blaine had to force himself to retreat. He took a deep, shuddering breath, realigning their bodies, and stared down at his mate, taking his spit-slick mouth in a passionate kiss. "Thank you," he murmured, really meaning it.

His hand crept down between them to seek out Kurt's cleft, stroking firmly where he'd prepared him earlier. "Are you ready?" he asked, kissing Kurt's brow as the boy squirmed under his caress.

"Yes. Yes, please." His words were all breath, sending a shiver of excitement through Blaine's body. His hands moved to the back of Kurt's thighs, spreading and shifting him until they were aligned just right. Then, in one smooth, powerful motion, he buried himself inside.

Kurt cried out immediately, his body arching sharply under Blaine's, legs drawing up, his face contorting with the pain. "Shh," Blaine soothed him. "It's better this way. Wait it out and it'll get better; you'll see."

Blaine held still as long as he could—moments that stretched with the weight of his impatience and the incredible clench of Kurt's body around him. He shifted, grinding gently, getting Kurt used to his girth. His first thrust was slow, tentative. Each that followed was a little quicker than the last, fueled by his relentless desperation. "How does it feel love? Is it better?" It was difficult to tell from his lover's breathing.

"Better," Kurt answered, his thighs tightening around Blaine's hips. "It's just so… _full_; it's odd."

Blaine chuckled and kissed his throat. "Can you handle a bit more?"

"I'll try," Kurt said, for a moment sounding so young. "Blaine I want to. _Please_."

Blaine's hands shifted to grip his mate's hips. "Move with me," he urged, guiding the boy's motions.

"Oh!" Kurt's mouth fell open, his pelvis beginning to gyrate of his own volition.

"That's right," Blaine praised, "just like that." He shifted to kiss Kurt's open mouth, trailing wetly down to his neck as they together found their rhythm, let their bodies take control.

"I'm not… not gonna last…" Kurt told him.

"You don't have to," Blaine said, seeking out his mate's cock between them, slick to the touch with sweat and precome. "You come whenever you can."

"Yeah," Kurt breathed, his hips twisting with less control now, his body jerking with little spasms. He was breathtaking. "Blaine I need…"

"God, yes," Blaine answered, knowing immediately what it was his mate sought. Suddenly he needed it too, needed it more desperately than he ever had before… even in those first, aching moments of hunger. "Kurt I have to," a flick of his tongue where Kurt's heart pounded in his throat was all the warning Blaine gave. He found a safe place to bite and sank his fangs into his mate's willing flesh, blood flooding up to meet and fill his mouth.

Kurt whined, writhing beneath him as though crazed. A few more thrusts into Blaine's fist and he was spilling between them. Blaine continued feeding, knowing the blood loss would enhance the boy's orgasm and draw it out. His mate's blood sent a buzz throughout Blaine's body, setting him on fire, turning his arousal into something wild and inevitable. He spiraled further and further out of control, his hips rushing furiously into the tight heat of Kurt's body, barely clinging to sanity as it exploded all at once, sharp and sudden.

To his horror, Kurt was near fading when he came back to himself, his body lax and barely moving beneath Blaine's own. He retracted his fangs immediately, licking over the wound to seal it as quickly as possible. "Shh, love, you're okay," he told the boy, trying to disguise his growing panic. He hadn't taken enough blood to kill Kurt—not even close—but it was enough to weaken him for quite some time; far longer than Blaine was willing to risk.

He pet over Kurt's hair and his mate nuzzled against the touch, dazed and disoriented. "I need you to do something for me, okay?" Raising his left arm, he swiftly opened a vein in his wrist, wincing at the flare of pain. Blaine lifted Kurt's head, bringing the wound to his lips. "I need you to drink for me. Can you do that sweetheart?"

Kurt shook his head weakly. "Ill urn me," he slurred.

"No. Not so easily. We've mated now, Kurt; we're connected. I promise it will help. It won't hurt you."

To his immense relief, Kurt seemed to accept his explanation, parting his lips just enough to allow Blaine's blood to trickle into his mouth. Soon his tongue darted out to taste and he latched on, drinking more deeply. Blaine allowed it for a few moments then pulled back, Kurt's head lifting up to follow him.

"Taste's good," he said.

"Mmm. Now you know how I feel." Mindless of his wound, Blaine sank down into the bed and pulled his mate close.

"I can sleep here?" Kurt said, already curling into him with an exaggerated yawn.

Blaine smiled, his heart bursting with affection. "Yes. I'll wake you when you need to leave."

"Don't let go," Kurt pleaded, squeezing around his body.

"Never," Blaine promised, meaning it more now than ever before. Kurt was his, was pounding through his blood, and there was no force on Earth or elsewhere, for that matter, that Blaine wouldn't fight to keep him. "I'm _never _letting go of you."

When he tilted his head down to seal his vow with a kiss, Kurt was already fast asleep.


	4. Part Four

**A/N: **The reviews make me happy, guys, so please keep them coming! Good or bad :-) Thank you 3

* * *

**Part Four**

Blaine had trained his body years ago to wake to an internal alarm, so when his eyes shot open in the dead of night—about an hour earlier than planned, judging from the cast of the moon through the window—he could instantly sense that something was wrong.

He could sense _what _was wrong. He shot out of bed, stirring Kurt where he rested beside him.

"Blaine?" Kurt said, sitting up and blinking groggy eyes. "Is it time to go now?"

"Not yet love," Blaine said, swiftly kissing his forehead, grateful that Kurt wasn't alert enough to read the worry etched in his face. "I need you to stay here. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded faintly, sinking back into the covers. "Gonna go back to sleep."

"You do that," Blaine said, smiling sadly as Kurt closed his eyes and gave himself over to dreams once more. He traced his fingers lightly over the shape of Kurt's face and left the room, moving quickly.

She was waiting in the parlor, staring vacantly at the unlit fireplace.

"Selina," Blaine said carefully. "What brings you here?"

Selina turned to face him, her beautiful, delicate figure giving way to cold eyes and a conniving smirk. "Blaine. Can I not visit my family?"

"You can drop the pretense," Blaine said, his body tense, prepared for an attack.

"I fear you've been spending too much time in the company of my young grandson," Selina said, slowly stepping closer. "This new generation has no sense of decorum."

"What do you want?" Blaine gritted out, forcing his body to stay still.

"You've betrayed me," Selina said, locking their eyes. "Among our kind, there are consequences for that."

She was a mere foot away now, and Blaine inhaled deeply, his body on the verge of fight or flight (fight, he had to fight, he had Kurt he had to fight…)

"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in this house?" a voice suddenly called out. Burt stepped out of the darkness, rounding on Selina rapidly, and Blaine felt his breath leave him in a rush.

"Burt, don't," he cried out without thinking. "She's a vampire!"

Disregarding his warning, Burt got right up in the woman's face, so close they were nearly nose-to-nose. "That's not all she is. She's a witch, too."

Selina smiled cruelly. "It's not often I meet a fellow gypsy, especially one of my caliber."

Blaine gasped. Suddenly so much made sense. Rebecca's hatred of Burt…

"How did you get in here?" Burt demanded.

"Don't you know?" Selina said, her tone conversational. "Your family is my _blood_. That means that in spite of your little protection spells, I can come and go as I please."

Blaine growled and launched forward, halted at the last moment by Burt's hand against his chest. "No need for that," Burt said. "She was just leaving."

"Was I?" Selina said. "I'm afraid I have relatives to visit first."

A cloud of smoke billowed through the room, and when it lifted, Selina was gone.

"Kurt," Blaine said under his breath, instinctively darting off towards his room.

"Shit," Burt muttered. And then he did the strangest thing. He spread his arms, closed his eyes, and began to chant.

Blaine froze in the hallway, watching him, transfixed. After a few moments, a high-pitched cry filled the air, and the smoke returned, Selina's face appearing… within it?

"Just give Blaine to me," she pleaded, sounding like she was fighting for breath. "He's stolen away your child, Burt, surely…"

"I don't allow your kind around my family," Burt said resolutely. "You won't be coming back."

"This won't be the end," she swore. "There are consequences, Blaine. Conse—"

And then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone.

"Burt, what was—"

"I want you gone."

Blaine blinked at him, unable to process the words.

"Don't think I won't perform the same spell on you, Blaine Anderson. Don't think I haven't known all along. You've gone too far, farther than even I had ever feared."

Blaine studied him carefully. "How much do you know?" he asked slowly.

"You're the same as she is. Vampire. _Bloodsucker_. You've had my wife bewitched for too long, and now you've corrupted my son, tried to lure him into your bed—"

"Kurt is in my bed. Right now. Kurt is my _mate_," Blaine drew himself up to full height in front of the warlock, his fangs dropping unbidden. "As much as I've been hiding I'm a vampire, you're no better. A _gypsy_. Do your children even know? Does Elizabeth?" He shook his head, looking down at his hands and tracing the faint hint of claws that had formed there, willing them away. "The irony is, Rebecca never even knew she had gypsy blood herself…" He considered Burt again, meeting the man's eyes. "And now you'll judge me the same way she judged you."

"You've already mated," Burt whispered, ignoring all else, his face falling into deep sorrow. "This changes nothing," he declared at last. "I want you gone."

"Over my dead body," Blaine hissed. "Would you do that to your own son?"

"I'm not so certain I would win that fight," Burt admitted. He sighed deeply, his hands coming up to massage his temples. "I should have acted sooner," he murmured to himself.

"Papa?" a soft voice carried across the room, accompanied by the sound of footsteps padding towards them. Katie wore her pink nightgown, a yellow quilt wrapped snug around her shoulders. She looked back and forth between the two men in confusion. "It's early. Is something going on?"

"Nothing now, sweetheart. Get back to bed."

Katie ignored her father's request, standing her ground. "Did you find out?" she asked Burt, "about Blaine?"

Burt glanced at Blaine, jaw set and eyes weary. "More than you know."

"It's alright, Katie," Blaine tried to assure her, even though it was sounding very much like it _wasn't_. "Go back to bed."

"Kurt loves him," Katie said obstinately. "Please consider that, Papa."

Burt had no answer, the three of them standing there awkwardly until finally, Katie spoke again. "Alright," she stepped close to her father, leaned up on her tip-toes to peck his cheek. "You should get back to bed too, Papa. The rest is good for your heart."

"Of course," Burt told her. "I was headed there now, dear."

With one last knowing look she finally left them. Burt spun around to level with Blaine. "Leave," he said firmly. "Don't make me force you."

"I can't," Blaine countered. "Selina is my sire. I swore an oath to her that I would remain here, protect her descendants."

"This oath," Burt said. "What did you swear it on?"

"What?"

"For a witch to bind you to an oath, there must be some talisman involved to seal the promise," Burt explained.

Blaine felt as though the floor was falling out from under him. "I… I don't remember. She told me that it was a commitment I made to her in exchange for my life, that I'm bound to her as a vampire."

Burt shook his head. "That's not possible. Vampires have no such ability, and magic is binding through objects, through memory. If you have no recollection of it, it didn't happen."

"I—" Blaine stopped, his mind spinning, not sure what to say next or even if there was anything to say. Could it be true? The last two-hundred years of his 'life', a lie?

"I want you gone," Burt repeated once more. "I'm—" Blaine could have sworn the man was about to apologize, but he managed to stop himself mid-sentence. "Vampires and gyspies have bad blood between them. I can't let you stay, Blaine. And what you did to my son was wrong."

"It was inevitable," Blaine said, and Burt didn't argue.

"I should have stopped it," he muttered instead, rubbing absently at the bald spot on his head. "You have twenty-four hours."

Blaine nodded in resignation, his mind spinning with all the implications of what had just occurred.

When he returned to his room Kurt was still there, tangled in his sheets and sleeping peacefully.

Blaine wished for his sake the boy never had to wake up.

* * *

He let Kurt sleep late into the morning, surprised when they weren't disturbed by Burt or either of the women. Surely Burt would tell them, and their opinions of Blaine would change accordingly. Not that they mattered. The only opinion that mattered to Blaine was Kurt's.

When he finally woke Blaine told him all that had happened, his heart breaking when Kurt began to cry.

"Do you have a plan?" Kurt asked him, eyes bright and full of fading hope.

"Kurt, I can't be away from you now. And it would hurt you greatly to be away from me."

Kurt hung his head. "That was never a potential solution anyway," he said quietly. "I'll… I'll talk to my father. He'll change his mind."

"Kurt…"

"Let me try, Blaine."

Blaine nodded, knowing instinctively that it would all come to naught.

* * *

Unfortunately, Blaine was right.

"He said…" Kurt's voice broke, silent tears trailing down his face, his breath hitching every few words. "He said that I'll be welcomed back anytime, if I'm not with you. If I'm not… if I'm not _like_ you. I thought he loved me."

"He does," Blaine assured him, cradling Kurt close and stroking down his back. "Of course he does, Kurt. But love doesn't allow for everything."

"Does our love?" Kurt asked petulantly.

Blaine didn't answer for a long moment, continuing the gestures that were comforting to them both. Finally he whispered, "Our love can move mountains."

* * *

Kurt spent the entire afternoon with his sister. Katie had been much more accepting of Blaine's nature than he had anticipated. At the moment she was, unsurprisingly, the less clingy of the two siblings.

"I always knew there was something strange about him," Katie said, jabbing her brother sharply in the ribs with her elbow. "Why didn't you tell me? We tell each other everything!"

"Come on, Kate. This was different. Would you have told me?"

"Maybe. Probably not." Well, there you go.

"I'm… you know I'm going to miss you, right?"

Katie smiled at him, taking his hand. "No lies now. You won't have time to miss me, what with all the adventures you'll be having!" Kurt hiccupped a laugh, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Katie snuck a wink at Blaine where he was sitting off to the side. "You know, I think I like him better now that I know he's a vamp."

"Katie…"

Katie leaned closer to him, speaking softly enough that Blaine probably wouldn't have heard, had he still been human. "Does he, you know, do the biting thing?"

"Katie!"

"Fine! Fine! Abandon your poor sister here to her humdrum life without any juicy details to keep her occupied!"

Kurt really did laugh this time, doubling over and clutching his stomach, and Blaine couldn't help but beam at the pair the two of them made. They'd certainly kept his life interesting for the past seventeen years, to say the very least.

"I'm going to miss you terribly, you know," Kurt said, once he'd calmed down enough to speak.

"You already said that. And you can always write! Maybe throw in a few of those juicy details…"

"Katie!"

"Yeah, all right," she sighed, laying her head down on her brother's shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you too."

In contrast, Elizabeth only spent an hour with Kurt, having devoted most of her day to trying to change her husband's mind. That went about as well as it usually did. Blaine tuned most of it out for once, but one part of their exchange in particular caught his attention.

"She's got a spell on you, you know. It's how Blaine's gone undetected all these years. If I could remove it, you'd see him for what he really is, Elizabeth. You'd see him as a monster."

"Kurt doesn't think he's a monster," she bit back stubbornly.

"Kurt's been cursed just like the rest of you."

Blaine bit down on his lip hard, tasting his own blood. The thought was jarring and painful. He hadn't known.

It didn't really make a difference.

"And your solution is to send our baby out there alone with him, when that's what you really think?"

"You're not helping your case at the moment," Burt pointed out.

"You didn't answer my question," Elizabeth countered.

Burt sighed. "Kurt's an adult; there's nothing I can do. And they've already mated. Even a vampire won't hurt their own mate, and it would be… difficult, for Kurt to be without him."

"I hate you for this," Elizabeth said, her voice breaking. "I don't understand why they can't stay. I don't understand why you didn't stop it. I don't understand why you're sending my son away from me, Burt."

There was silence for a long while, and when Burt spoke again his voice was much softer. "I'm sorry," he said, barely detectable even to Blaine's ears. "He's my son too."

* * *

It was a few days later when they realized the true disaster that had befallen them.

Elizabeth had talked Burt into letting them stay one more night. It had been the first time they slept together without any sexual contact. Kurt had folded his long limbs up, making himself impossibly small against Blaine's more compact body. Blaine should have gone hunting that night, gathered his strength, but he couldn't bear to leave his mate when Kurt was so brokenhearted.

In the morning there had been a lot of hugging and more tears—even from Burt, which made Blaine feel a bit resentful because damn him, really, and Kurt _didn't _understand. And then, hand in hand, both with small packs on their backs filled with clothes and food and money (Blaine had accumulated more than enough over the years, thank God, plus there was what Elizabeth and Katie had slipped them, and what Burt had openly given—Burt was making it very hard to hate him, and that just made Blaine hate him all the more. He'd blame the gypsies if Kurt wasn't one himself), they set off.

Katie had called it an adventure, but it felt like anything but with time dragging as much as their feet and scarcely a word passing between them. But their connection was still there, maybe stronger now, and eventually, Blaine told himself, this would all be a distant memory for the both of them.

That night, Blaine reluctantly confessed to Kurt that he needed to feed. He was grateful when Kurt offered up himself—he couldn't imagine it would be safe to leave Kurt behind to hunt, especially in his condition, although he would need to do so eventually. For now Kurt's own warm blood sustained him, and if the two of them got lost for a time in the touch and taste of their lover's body, it was a well-deserved distraction.

On the third day they managed to find a small village where no one knew them and secured a place to stay. The lack of blood was finally taking effect, making Blaine slightly dizzy and off-kilter. He had refused to feed the night before, too concerned for Kurt's safety, and tonight he only took the bare minimum. He would have to go hunting tomorrow. Kurt would be safer now with a roof over his head. He would understand.

Except Kurt didn't understand, not to the extent that Blaine had hoped. Blaine couldn't blame him for feeling a little possessive when his own jealousy flared so strongly at the mere thought of Kurt sharing any sort of intimacy with someone else.

As it turned out, though, Kurt had nothing to worry about.

Blaine was still heaving when he stumbled back into their room.

"I can't feed," he managed to tell Kurt before vomiting into their chamber pot.

"What?" Kurt asked, rubbing his back and offering him a damp cloth he'd readied in the water pitcher. "Why not?"

Blaine shook his head. It was several more minutes before he managed an answer.

"The blood… it turns to poison in my mouth. It's not only foul anymore; I can't keep it down, Kurt."

Kurt looked deeply troubled. "Is that… is that because of me? Because we mated?"

"No. That wouldn't make any sense—your blood alone cannot sustain me."

"Then… what is it, Blaine?"

Blaine sighed, straightening up the best he could from where he was still bent over the chamber pot, finally turning to face his mate. "I think it's Selina. I think she's cursed me."

"Cursed you so that you can't feed," Kurt clarified.

"Yes."

"That doesn't make sense," Kurt said. "You've still been feeding from me."

Blaine took Kurt's hand and tugged him over towards the bed as gently as possible, collapsing onto it and pulling Kurt to sit next to him. "It wouldn't work on you. Nothing—not even magic—can penetrate our bond."

Kurt looked like he was still putting all the pieces together in his head, but Blaine could see the shock, the fear settling into his eyes as realization began to dawn. "Except death?" he asked in a tiny voice.

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. "Except death," he admitted.

"But, it can't be so simple," Kurt said, hysterical urgency creeping into his voice. "It can't just all… _end_. Not because of her. We have to be able to fight this!"

"Kurt," Blaine said, placating. "I'm already beginning to grow weak. We don't know where she is. Even if we did, she's not going to remove the curse… and I don't have magic to make her."

"You…" Kurt stood up, hands ransacking his hair and tugging at the chestnut strands. "You said I was yours. You said you would never let me go!"

"Kurt…"

"Why are you so complacent about this? So what… you just… you just _leave_ and I'm alone forever?"

"Of course you don't have to be alone," Blaine said, each word a dagger in his heart.

"You said that we're _mates_. You said I belong to you, Blaine, so how can you just leave me to be with someone else? I _couldn't. _You have to know that."

Blaine closed his eyes once more, feeling the threat of tears for the first time in all his years as a vampire. How could Kurt think that this wasn't ripping him apart? He'd never felt so powerless before, so hopeless, and it was painful to see Kurt laying it so bare before him.

"I want to…" he started, his voice a whisper. "I want to rip her apart, Kurt. And not for deceiving me all these years. For you." He swallowed thickly, wincing at the taste of bloody bile lingering in his mouth. "I should have done it that day at your father's house. I should have killed her when I had the chance. I'm sorry."

Kurt finally stopped his frantic pacing and really looked at him, his blue eyes glistening with tears. "Blaine…" he said, coming over and dropping to his knees in front of Blaine on the bed. "She might have killed you too."

Blaine chuckled weakly. "She's trying." He paused. "Selina's almost three hundred years older than me. She's… stronger. Especially with her magic," he admitted reluctantly.

"But you're kinder," Kurt said, placing his hand over where Blaine's heart used to beat. "I don't want you to give up. I want you to fight, for me… for _us._"

Blaine offered him a small smile. "I would fight for you to the ends of the Earth, if only there were the smallest chance of me winning." He brushed his fingers down the side of Kurt's beautiful face. "But there isn't," he said at last. "She's stacked the odds against me, Kurt. She's taken the one thing that gives me power. And if I try to fight, she'll take you too. I can't let that happen."

"I don't want to live without you. I won't," Kurt said with conviction.

"Kurt…"

"There's a library here in town. Let me see if I can do some research. We can find a way."

Blaine opened his mouth to protest but found he couldn't bear to kill the glimmer of hope alight in Kurt's eyes. "Sure," he conceded at last.

"Great," Kurt said with a smile, rising to his feet and heading toward the door. "I'll go now. You rest up."

"Kurt."

"What is it?"

"It's nighttime, love. The library won't be open."

"Oh," Kurt looked dumbfounded for a moment, but he soon sighed and moved to take a chair.

"Come lay with me?" Blaine asked, laying back on the bed and opening his arms in invitation.

To his relief Kurt did so, curling against his body as he had so many times before. Blaine gratefully wrapped his arms around the boy, feeling the muscles in Kurt's body relaxing in his embrace.

"You should feed from me," Kurt said quietly after a few moments. "Keep up your strength."

"My strength is your weakness, Kurt," Blaine pointed out. "I'll take a little tomorrow."

"It won't be enough."

Blaine didn't know what to say to that, so he hugged him a little tighter and kissed his brow.

* * *

The library was a flop—as Blaine knew it would be—and it seemed to bring back Kurt's distress full-force.

"You said you'd feed from me," Kurt reminded him.

"I said a little bit. We can't have sex right now, Kurt. It would be far too dangerous for you."

"So you're just… you're just going to _die _without ever making love to me again?"

"Kurt…"

"I hate this!" Kurt cried out, his fists clenching and his face scrunching up alarmingly in a matter of seconds. "I hate this and I hate you and my God, why did you do this to me! I wish I'd never met you!"

"You don't mean that," Blaine said, his heart plummeting.

"Of course I do! How could you do this to me? How could you put me through this after—"

"DO YOU THINK I WANTED THIS!? Do you think I want any of this! I would never have _chosen_ to be a vampire if there'd been another choice—God, I don't even remember it!—and I certainly wouldn't have chosen to be mates with a sniveling teenaged brat like you! I don't want to die! I don't want to leave you! It makes me sick, the thought of abandoning you here to spend your life with someone else…"

"I don't want someone else!" Kurt said frantically, moving until he was right in front of Blaine's face. "I don't want to be alone; I don't—"

"You're mine, Kurt," Blaine cupped his face, helpless to the feeling coursing within him, hating everything about this discussion. "Mine!"

"Yes, God I—"

Unable to think clearly anymore, Blaine advanced, taking Kurt's mouth and body with every ounce of strength he possessed, shoving the boy back several feet to collide painfully with a desk. Neither of them seemed to care, however, too caught up in the frenzy and the heat of their bodies moving so sensually together. It had been several days now since they had been intimate like this, and Blaine suddenly couldn't conceive of the reason why, all thoughts of Selina and Kurt's family banished from his mind as his lips blazed a path down Kurt's perfect, pale neck. This was what being alive felt like! Why had he been denying them both for so long? He needed to take Kurt, remind him who he belonged to, sink his teeth into Kurt's yielding flesh and taste the source of his life—

He wrenched himself back, away from Kurt's body, his own heaving with the violence of his repression. "You need to leave," he told Kurt, not looking at him.

"I… what?"

"You have to go. Now. I'm too weak, Kurt, in so many ways." More ways than he knew himself.

"I can't," Kurt said, his voice breaking. Then, more determinedly, "I won't."

"Take the money, all of it. I'll be dead in a few days anyways."

"Blaine, no."

"Go!"

"I WON'T!"

It was the last thing Blaine wanted to do, but he closed his eyes and forced it to happen.

His fangs extended, and he could feel his features sharpening slightly, the nails on his hands and feet lengthening into razor-sharp points. The change was subtle but powerful. One glance and any bystander would now recognize him for the monster he was.

Kurt, however, stared at him with stubborn resolution. "You can't scare me, Blaine. That's a poor trick."

"Maybe not," Blaine said, his voice smooth and sinister. "But I can go out there and scare them."

"You wouldn't!"

Blaine lifted an eyebrow. "Try me," he challenged. "I've got nothing to lose. Now get your things and go. Your father will take you back."

"Blaine…"

"Leave, Kurt."

"Fine," Kurt finally said, marching across the room to snatch his bag off the floor. "But this isn't the end, Blaine."

"It is for me," Blaine whispered.

Kurt came close as he made his way to the door. "I love you." He looked Blaine pointedly in the eye for a long moment, maybe hoping he would change his mind, maybe waiting for him to resume a more normal appearance. Blaine remained steadfast.

Kurt tilted his head down slightly to brush a kiss across Blaine's distorted cheek, lingering there. Blaine trembled as Kurt's warm breath danced across his face. He hoped the boy didn't notice.

And then his mate was gone.

* * *

That evening a knock sounded at Blaine's door. He opened it reluctantly, unwilling to deal with whomever might be standing there, but there was no one—only a large, stoppered glass vial on the floor with a note tied around its neck.

"Please, do this one last thing for me," the note read.

Blaine shuddered at the thought of a knife dragging across Kurt's perfect skin. He knew it would only be delaying the inevitable.

He drank every last drop.

* * *

The effects of the blood Kurt had left him made him feel almost normal for about a day, but swiftly after he began to decline.

He spent his time holed up in bed. Sometimes hallucinations would overtake him. There were good ones where he was with Kurt, bits of memory tangled with fantasies of the life that had been stolen from them. Other times he saw Selina, always laughing and taunting and then once, only once, on the day she had saved him.

Towards the end he saw his family. His older brother with his little sister swung high up onto his shoulders. His mother laughing. His father sitting in his favorite chair, smoking his pipe.

He saw Sam being slaughtered, felt the despair of reaching out to save someone who was already gone.

He could _feel _again.

His heart was heavy, too heavy. It strained and weighed until it began to melt away, thick crimson droplets falling into darkness…

Then everything went black.


	5. Part Five

**A/N: **Here it is, the conclusion of Crimson. It's been such a delight writing this story and sharing it with all of you. If you feel so inspired, please comment and let me know what you think!

(There are vague thoughts of a sequel floating around in my mind, nothing too concrete but... we'll see! ;-)

* * *

**Part Five**

"Come on Blaine… _please_," a voice pleaded. It sounded distant but familiar, almost like it belonged to Blaine himself, was a part of him. But that didn't make sense.

He fought to open his eyes, and after what seemed like forever he managed it. There was darkness surrounding him but for one blurry image. Blaine tried to focus. It was a boy—no, a young man. It took only seconds for Blaine's heart to recognize him. "Kurt," he ground out. "Are you dead?"

His vision was sharpening now. Kurt was laughing at him, his eyes still a blur… from tears? "Of course not, stupid," Kurt said, sniffling. "Now keep drinking."

Suddenly Blaine became aware of Kurt's arm pressed over his mouth, hot blood flowing inside, and he swallowed eagerly, starving. It was the most incredible thing he had ever tasted, so much so that he groaned and latched down tight with his teeth. Kurt yelped in pain, but he didn't try to move away… not at first.

"Blaine, that's enough," Kurt said, sounding as though it took great effort to speak. Blaine barely heard him, so intent on feeding. "Blaine…" Kurt repeated. "Blaine, stop! You're going to kill me…"

The words echoed through him, louder and louder until Blaine's mind finally made sense of them. Horrified, he drew back immediately, suddenly able to feel Kurt again through their bond, feel his mate's weakness. Kurt's arm was bruised and bloody, still bleeding from the pierce of Blaine's fangs as well as a cut he must have made himself. Blaine nearly gagged at the sight.

"Kurt," Blaine said, pulling his mate's lax body into his lap. "I'm so sorry."

Kurt's eyes blinked up at him blearily. "Isalright," he slurred. "You… you needed it."

"Here," Blaine said, quickly opening a vein in his own arm and offering it up to Kurt. Kurt hadn't drank from him since the night they mated, but now he took the blood eagerly, though this time stopping on his own after a few minutes. Blaine pulled him in close to his chest and cradled him there while Kurt recovered.

"Thank you," he finally said, tilting his head up to kiss Blaine softly on the lips.

Blaine shook his head. "I should be thanking you," he argued. "But Kurt… this one time's not going to change anything. I almost killed you, and I'm still… I'm still going to die myself."

He felt stronger than he had in days, it was true. But it wasn't enough.

"You're not," Kurt said, eyes bright with promise. "The curse is gone! Tonight you can hunt your fill."

Blaine stared down at him in astonishment, brushing the hair back from Kurt's sweetly smiling face. "But… how? How is that possible?"

"I found her," Kurt explained, the words leaving him in a rush. "I went to my father and he gave me the magic. She's gone, Blaine. She's… she's dead."

"You killed her?" Blaine said slowly. "For me?"

Kurt nodded, burying his head in the crook of Blaine's neck. "I would do anything for you," he whispered.

"Will you tell me? Tell me how you did it?" For some reason, Blaine desperately needed to know.

Kurt swallowed thickly. "I went home, like I said. Told my father. I wasn't sure he would help, but he… he gave me an amulet, said it would take away her powers, and he taught me a curse to defeat her. Apparently I… I have gypsy powers too, though I'm untrained. It worked."

"What curse did you use?" As much as Blaine's instincts urged him to destroy Selina, to make her pay for trying to take his life, for trying to take _Kurt _from his arms and his life, she was still his sire. Now that it was done, a part of him hoped her death was merciful, that it wasn't—God forbid—the same curse she'd cast upon him.

Kurt was shaking in Blaine's arms, Blaine's hands smoothing over his back, trying to soothe him. "It…" he tried, then started again. "Gypsy curses aren't very nice, Blaine. They're designed to make the victim suffer. This one was for suffocation. The amulet all but incapacitated her, and I had to put it around her neck, and when I did the chant, it… it got tighter. I stayed there with her until she was dead."

"How long?" Blaine wanted to know, and he really, really didn't.

"It was—she—hours, Blaine," Kurt finally croaked out.

It was a more humane death than Blaine would have granted her, had they met again.

Blaine held Kurt impossibly tighter, treasuring his warmth, his smell, his love.

His sacrifice.

Sometimes there were no words.

* * *

After that they were _happy_. Kurt still missed his family, but even that faded with time. It helped that he kept in contact with his sister by post whenever possible. Burt never wrote, but sometimes Elizabeth would sneak in a message.

They traveled everywhere together. Once they'd seen their fill of the United States, they ventured north into Canada, then south into Mexico, a country with a still stranger culture, a unique cuisine that Kurt found he favored. They lingered there. Blaine took a liking to the warm climate, as it provided the optimal conditions in which to hunt.

What Kurt wanted most was to go to Europe, but after contemplating the hazards of a transatlantic boat trip for Blaine, they decided that it wasn't worth the risk. When news reached them in Guadalajara of the Wright brothers' first flight, Kurt grew certain that eventually the journey might be more manageable.

Blaine wanted to turn him. He wanted it so badly at times it was nearly maddening, knowing Kurt was mortal and vulnerable when he didn't need to be. But he wouldn't pressure him. He didn't even ask. There were times after they made love and fed from each other that Blaine was certain Kurt was aware of his desire, was grateful for the time and space Blaine was allowing him. He would smile, and Blaine would kiss him, and it was enough.

And then in one terrible, fateful moment, everything changed.

They had ventured out to the marketplace, Kurt looking through the various handmade baubles for sale, Blaine trading for essentials with the locals. As happened more often than not, Kurt was quick to spot something he liked—a carved wooden pendant of a young boy and girl holding hands that reminded him of his sister—but to his dismay, he didn't have enough money with him to purchase it, and the seller wouldn't bargain down any further. He managed to convince her to hold it for him—pointing to Blaine across the street and indicating that he would get more money. In his excitement, he didn't pay much attention as he made to jog across the road.

Normally wagons travelled slowly, out of necessity and because of the large number of pedestrians walking about town at any given moment, but this one was going remarkably fast. Someone cried out, and Kurt barely whipped his head around in time. His eyes went wide and he made to leap out of the way just in time, tumbling into a heap on the side of the road.

The wagon screeched to a halt, and Blaine came running.

"Kurt," he cried, frantically looking him over. "Oh sweetheart, are you hurt?"

It was a good thing everyone around them spoke Spanish.

Kurt moaned, clutching at his side, a gash bleeding freely from the top of his head.

A man came scampering up. "¡Lo siento, yo no te vi!" He spoke some more in rapid Spanish, but Blaine gave him a curt nod, barely paying him any mind.

"He says he's sorry, his mule spooked and he didn't see you," Blaine told Kurt, shifting his mate's wounded head to rest in his lap.

"Head hurts," Kurt whined when he could speak. "I… I don't think he hit me, though. Just got caught by the momentum."

"You could have died," Blaine all but growled, a much more morbid scenario flashing repeatedly through his mind.

"But I didn't, Blaine. Not this time. You can patch me up."

Blaine paused to glare at the crowd that had gathered—the wagon driver extra ferociously—and they began to trickle away. "Someday I won't be able to," he said softly. "Kurt, half the men I've known haven't lived to see fifty, and you're nearly halfway there!"

Kurt sighed, squeezing his eyes closed, tears leaking from their corners. "You can do it, then," he said at last, his words forced and painful. "It's been on my mind for a while. You can turn me."

They were silent, lingering on the side of the street for several minutes longer until Blaine helped Kurt to his feet, and they slowly made their way back to their tiny home.

* * *

They lay in their bed in silence, Blaine's head pillowed on Kurt's chest, his arm wrapped tightly around Kurt's hips. Kurt's fingers combed loosely through Blaine's curls.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm."

"Tell me about it… about what it will be like when I change."

"Kurt…"

"Will my heart still beat?"

"Kurt," Blaine's voice broke, his fingers flexing helplessly where his hand rested over Kurt's chest.

"Tell me, Blaine," Kurt pressed, his words a near-sob.

Blaine inhaled deeply. "No, Kurt. You know it won't."

"And will I still eat? Breathe?"

"Only if you want to."

"And what about the thirst, Blaine?" Kurt continued, sounding almost crazed. "Tell me about that. Will I be able to control it?"

"It's… difficult, at first. But you will, Kurt. In time." He sighed, hugging Kurt's body a little tighter. "You don't have to do this. Not yet. Not if you don't want to."

Kurt chuckled dryly. "There's no need to play nice. We both know you've been waiting to turn me since the very start!"

"Kurt," Blaine said, hurt by the unexpected accusation. He turned in his lover's arms, unsurprised to find Kurt's face lit with anger, tears streaming down his cheeks. He reached up, trailing his trembling fingers down through the moisture, but Kurt flinched out of reach. "Don't do this," Blaine pleaded. "You know that's not true."

Kurt turned away from him, curling into himself, and Blaine did his best to fit himself around Kurt, huddle close to his body and offer what small comfort he could. "What about my family?" Kurt eventually spoke again. "Will I still love them?"

Blaine swallowed thickly, pressed a kiss to the back of Kurt's neck. "I don't know, Kurt. It depends on how strongly you feel for them."

"And you," Kurt said shakily. "Will I still love you, Blaine?"

"Sweetheart," Blaine breathed, and Kurt pivoted in his embrace, tucked himself into Blaine's body and _sobbed_. Blaine cradled him there for a few moments, rocking him and stroking his hair, his quaking back, and then he reached for Kurt's face, forced him away from Blaine's body until he could tilt Kurt's chin enough to see his eyes. "You have no idea, Kurt. No idea the depth, the intensity of what I feel for you. It consumes me, every second. You're _mine_, and I'm yours, and that's not a choice—it's the biggest part of what I am. I can't promise that you'll feel the same, after, but I can tell you that I don't doubt it. We were made to fit each other, Kurt. _Mates_."

Kurt's tears continued to fall, but he smiled through them, nodded, twined his arms around Blaine's neck and pulled him into a deep, wet kiss. "I do feel it, Blaine. I won't let it be taken from me."

Blaine nodded and clung to him, trying desperately not to dwell on his own fears. It was rare, but sometimes people didn't make it. Sometimes they didn't get enough blood and they simply died, or their bodies were too weak and gave out halfway through the transformation. Sometimes vampires got lost to the bloodlust, went mad with it, had to be put down for risk of exposing their existence to everybody. Sometimes—

It wasn't like there was a choice; today had proven as much to Blaine. They had to take the risk, or Blaine would lose Kurt altogether, and that was simply not an option. Kurt had nearly died today. He'd nearly _died_, and it would have been too late to save him; Kurt's body would have been torn, strewn along the street like rubbish, the end of every lingering bit of good in Blaine's life, the end of _hope_.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice, high and troubled, pulled Blaine out of his thoughts. "Blaine, when I'm… like you… will we still be able to feed from each other?"

Blaine chuckled: for once a question that had an easy, positive answer. "Yes, love. Your blood won't… sustain me, anymore, but it will feed our bond. It will bring us closer."

Kurt wriggled in his arms, his breath hot on Blaine's neck, then against his ear. "I can't imagine feeling closer to you than I do right now."

"That's one thing, then," Blaine said. "One thing to look forward too."

* * *

They held each other all through the night and well into the next day. Blaine didn't really need to ask the question, but he did so anyway, just to be sure.

Kurt was twenty-four now, but at the moment he looked so boyish, sitting in bed with the covers mussed and pulled around his waist, hunched over a grapefruit with his hair hanging wet and limp over his eyes—a result of the steam bath they'd just shared.

Blaine reached out to him, touched his hand. "When do you want to do it?" he asked in a hush.

Kurt tensed, but then looked up and met his eyes. "Tonight."

Blaine nodded.

They didn't speak for the rest of the day.

* * *

The moonlight poured in through the window, highlighting Kurt's flawless pale skin, and Blaine kissed him again, rubbing their bodies together, tangling their fingers and pressing Kurt's hands to the bed. "How do you…" he whispered.

"Shh," Kurt said, bringing a finger to his lips. "Don't… don't talk. Just love me."

Blaine nodded then, took his mouth again. Kurt twined his arms around Blaine's neck, his legs around his waist, hauling himself off the bed until he was all but hanging from Blaine's body. Blaine shushed him, rolled them to the side where they fell in a heap. He trailed tiny kisses over Kurt's jaw, down the length of his arched throat, lapping at old scabs and faint scars that marked where his fangs had pierced Kurt's neck. Normally the sight aroused him—always appealing, even tempting—but now it made him ill.

He moved down along Kurt's shoulder, lifting his arm to burrow into its pit. Any other time the action made Kurt giggle, but now he was silent, his eyes closed, lashes brushing the faint wash of color on his cheeks, a look of surrender on his face.

Blaine loved him, would love him forever. _Forever_. And he was going to do more than make love to him. He was going to _worship _Kurt tonight.

He worked slowly, being sure to pay attention to every minute detail, every inch of skin, patch of hair, every freckle. It was odd, really, how much this felt like goodbye when it was the start of an eternity. But Kurt would never be like this again—human, fragile, _alive_. Maybe he would be something better, but Blaine still felt like mourning, couldn't shake the solemnity in his bones.

And he would do it. He would hurt Kurt, would drain him, would kill him. It had never bothered Blaine, being a monster, until now. He felt like he should apologize, like he should leave Kurt here, run away, give him some kind of chance. But that had never been an option.

Kurt had never really had a choice.

Instead he wrote _I love you_ on Kurt's body, tried to work it under his skin with every caress of his hands and lips and tongue. He was so intent on his task that he almost missed it.

Kurt was crying.

Gentle, silent sobs that barely shook his chest. Blaine paused, rested his cheek over Kurt's steady, familiar heartbeat, and broke down.

Kurt shook his head, tugged at Blaine's, kissed him fiercely, biting, ripping into his lip. He clawed his way from under Blaine's body, stretched up on his knees to reach the vial of oil that was always on the table beside the bed and pressed it determinedly into Blaine's hand. He laid down again, lifted his long white legs to rest on Blaine's shoulders, and waited.

Blaine took a shaky breath, dropped the oil to the bed and ran his hands over Kurt's fuzzy calves, kissing his knee. He took it up again, almost spilled it trying to get the stopper off, drizzled it onto his fingers. He paused, looking up to meet Kurt's eyes, suddenly unwilling to take this step, to move in any way closer to this being _over_, but Kurt's gaze implored him—darkened with something that might have been lust, might have been _anger_—and Blaine wanted nothing more than to take it away, make him feel good again. So he lowered his hand, traced Kurt's crevice with slick fingers until Kurt's eyes softened, glazed over with desire, and he whined and worked his ass against Blaine's touch. Obligingly, Blaine slid a finger inside.

He opened Kurt slowly, reverently, almost expecting a cry of protest, an insistent push for more, but it never came. Kurt's eyes were closed and he seemed to be almost… floating, lost to the pleasure, _beautiful_. Blaine moved up to kiss him softly when he couldn't draw it out anymore, and Kurt just stayed that way, unmoving, legs splayed, until Blaine gave in and pushed into his familiar heat.

His hands cradled Kurt's face, then his neck, fingers tracing over his collarbone, gently along every plane and ridge of Kurt's chest. Eventually, Kurt wrapped his arms around him—more like a hug than the passionate grip of a lover—and buried his face in Blaine's hair. They moved together for what seemed like hours, neither in a rush, until the sun slowly began to rise through the window, and Kurt became frantic, his tears returning.

Blaine's had never left.

"Do it, Blaine," he pleaded, nails raking down Blaine's back. "You have to do it, it was supposed to happen, there's no time…"

"Shush," Blaine told him, pulling back so he could see Kurt's face, blinking away the moisture from his eyes. "Just be with me, Kurt, just be." He shifted his weight to one arm, awkwardly opening a vein on his wrist and lifting it to Kurt's lips. "Drink from me," he urged, needing to feel the sweet suction of Kurt's mouth, their bond tingling through his veins.

Kurt obeyed, much to Blaine's relief, and Blaine shuddered at the sensation, his hips stuttering out of their steady pace. He sighed, pressing a cheek briefly to Kurt's shoulder before turning his head and slicing through the tender flesh, latching on. Kurt cried out softly, lifting his hips a bit more forcefully, and Blaine finally, mournfully gave in to the inevitable.

"I love you," Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, abandoning the wound as he rocked them faster. "So much, Kurt, you have no idea. You're my world. Want to keep you forever. I'll cherish you, Kurt. It'll all be better. You'll see."

Kurt whined and ripped away from his wrist, taking his lips instead, the taste of their blood mingling in Blaine's mouth. Blaine's hand found Kurt's cock between their bodies, took him in his fist, stroked him urgently. "Will you come for me, beautiful? Give yourself to me?"

Obediently Kurt cried out, tears leaking from his eyes and mingling with sweat, whether from the intensity of the love they were making or his emotions, Blaine couldn't be sure. He watched Kurt as he came, babbling Blaine's name, and hated what he knew would come next.

Blaine thrust hard into Kurt's body, screaming as he found his own release. Kurt was coming down, stoking his back and desperately murmuring _"do it now Blaine, please just do it, want it to be over_." Blaine looked into his lover's eyes one final time, softly kissed his brow and then moved lower, biting hard and fast into the crook of Kurt's neck.

At first it was as good as it always was—if he pretended well enough, he could imagine that Kurt's whimpers were of pleasure, and maybe at first they were. He tried not to think about how soon that would change as he began to feel the familiar sensation of Kurt fading away from him, tried not to think about how in mere minutes, Kurt wouldn't be able to make any sound at all. Blaine wanted desperately to stop, to pull back—every molecule of his body was screaming for it—and it was almost laughable, how he'd once been terrified that he wouldn't be able to stop, that the monster within him would overcome his love and take Kurt's life without his consent.

It happened gradually—Kurt's hands going slack on his body, his legs falling away, his heartbeat slowing until it was nothing. Blaine didn't—_couldn't_—look up. He didn't pull away, forcing himself to drink past the point of nausea. It sickened him how his body thrummed with pleasure while with every swallow, he died inside a little bit more.

And then it was over. His love was dead.

When the blood flow finally stopped, Blaine licked over the wound tenderly, as he always did. Then he pulled Kurt's limp body close to him—only now slipping out of his lifeless heat—and sobbed, praying for the moment Kurt would open his eyes once more.

* * *

There was a hill that overlooked Kurt's family's estate. It provided a beautiful view—the house, the barns, the meadow covered over in wildflowers in the springtime, the brook that babbled with fresh, clear water off in the distance, close to the forest. Today, however, offered a still more attractive sight.

At twenty-six, Katie had blossomed into a lovely young woman. Her fair hair was pulled into a bun, but several pieces fell loose in the gentle breeze. Her blue eyes sparkled, a smile on her face and her laughter ringing through the air as her white dress billowed out around her. From the porch her parents looked on, happily situated on the swing where it was shady. At her side was a handsome man of about her age—her husband, Blaine assumed—and toddling about a few feet away from the couple was a tiny red-headed girl with eyes like her mother's. Eyes like _Kurt's_.

Kurt watched them solemnly, the smile he wore slight. Blaine stood beside him, his arm wrapped around Kurt's waist, his expression much freer.

"They're so happy," Kurt commented, his gaze unwavering. "She's so beautiful."

"She is," Blaine agreed, though he wasn't certain whom his mate was referring to.

"No harm must come to them," Kurt said seriously. "Not while I'm around. You must swear it with me, Blaine, really this time. We'll watch over them. No fang will ever pierce their throats; no magic will thwart them; no—"

Blaine turned to him, taking his chin and looking deep into Kurt's eyes. "You still love them, don't you?"

"I do," Kurt conceded easily. "Of course I do. But never as much as I love you, Blaine."

"I'll love you for all eternity," Blaine swore softly. "You're mine, Kurt. And I'm yours."

Kurt beamed, a brilliant smile that lit his entire face and warmed Blaine's heart. "It's a good thing, then," he said, taking Blaine's hand, "that we have an eternity to love."


End file.
